


Premonitions

by mhs0501



Category: Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, First Meetings, I really wanted to write about this because it would be so cool in the movie, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Minor Spoilers, Other, Prequel, Sister-Sister Relationship, The Sisters actually have names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhs0501/pseuds/mhs0501
Summary: For centuries Sariatu has lived her dreams under the watchful eye of The Moon King, and for centuries, she's never felt love. But when a handsome, nameless samurai enters her nights, she can't help but feel he could be her greatest strength... and her family's undoing.Prequel to Kubo on how Sariatu and Hanzo knew each other for months before their fateful meeting. I hope you all like it! MINOR SPOILERS but not many.





	1. Chapter 1

She was barefoot, her geta resting behind her. A soft breeze whispered unintelligible words in the night and suddenly the hum of the crickets song cut short as she sucked in a breath, and her eyelids split open into soft, brown almond pupils. In the midst of where she stood, there was an eternally full moon barely touching the lip of a massive, jagged cliff. The dark rocky surface was bathed in the silvery light of the orb balanced in a star studded sky. She narrowed her gaze at the mountain that loomed far in the distance, dry trees swirling in blue and purple shades with the winds that seemed to grow louder. Her eyes then lifted to the main subject of which her father ruled with no question.

 

In her many centuries of following her father’s orders, she’d come to loath the ever present light which invaded her dreams and ensured they as well as her would always be carefully watched far from the blinding rays of the sun. Her older sister Miyuki had figured out their fathers tactics for monitoring their lucid dreams when she stared hard into the surface one night, only to find the glow of his eyes within the web of craters. What he did with the information collected Sariatu did not know and did not bring up the matter although there were many nights where it would’ve pleasured her to tell the old man off and allow her dreams to remain hers and hers alone.

 

There were, however, nights where The Moon King, as her eldest sister Harumi had taken to nickname him, was simply too occupied with his right to rule and destroy those who opposed his reign as a powerful god.

 

Through decades of practice, the youngest daughter had learned how to detect the subtle signs of her being watched not only through the moon, but through the wind as well. While her mind orchestrated their own fantasies for her to achieve in her dreams, her father held the the power to manipulate them-- if only slightly. It was enough to make her pause before she performed any actions that would indicate suspicious behavior.

 

The moon was only the first sign of her father. The next sign was the very wind which billowed through the air and sky, scattering the paper-like scraps and blossoms around the gravel surface and far into the nether regions even her broadest imagination couldn’t fathom.

 

If the wind blew smoothly and most telling: innocuously, Sariatu hardly needed to look to the moon for guidance. If harmony prevailed even within her control, there was no telling how strongly The Moon King monitored her escape from reality. But if there was chaos; sweet, unpredictable chaos in the gusts from far away, it meant there was no control. No order, and no one to make it so.

 

From her peripheral vision she squinted at the swirl of a maple leaf as it took flight. At first, it was smooth sailing, the purple glow from its wooded birthplace surrendering to a subdued maroon. But then, a burst of cool air shoved the leaf along its path, curling and rolling in uneven patterns until it got caught on the strap of her geta.

 

Sariatu smiled softly at that leaf. Her father was strict enough that even a single particle of dust out of order would result in a fuming rage felt for days. Those days were equally painful for the three daughters and the mortals down below who quaked at the storming skies that disrupted the pureness of the night.

 

Taking confidence in the first night alone in weeks, she lifted her arms slowly and rose into the sky, the gravel leaving a great cloud of dust in its wake to settle as imperfectly as she pleased. With what powers she possessed on her own, she twirled gracefully and embraced the warm summer air, taking in the endless domain of stars that twinkled around her.

 

Of course, this was one of the few nights which her sisters would’ve taken advantage of the peace, and ensnared the stars in their nets of black and provide an easier time doing who knew what. Oftentimes, they would cover the moon as well, knowing what their father couldn’t see, couldn’t hurt anyone. But Sariatu relished the light she received in the darkness of the night more so than her sisters. That wasn’t to say she would dare enter the mortal world in the burning rays of the sun, but there was always a larger part of her that held curiosity for what the light could show her that darkness enshrouded.

 

Most of all, it was a sight hazard. When in motion, ground or sky, she couldn’t see the beauty of the world below with a still, ink blackness sliding seamlessly over everything. What existed in her dreams were things she somehow knew neither Harumi or Miyuki thought of in their increasing levels of control: the porspect of the world she couldn’t be part of, as a goddess.

 

And while she willingly followed her father’s will as much as her older sisters did, in the remote (and uncommon) privacy of her dreams were the true possibilities explored, out of her families wandering eye. There had been hundreds of dreams consisting of simple life as a mere peasant on the ground-- fantasies of a family with a beautiful stranger whom she would never see beyond his back.

 

Her almond brown eyes scanned the purple forest, looking along the endless ocean of quivering oak and maple for any signs of what she’d dreamed of the night before, and the night before that. She would always encounter him in different ways. Sometimes, it was through the shimmer of his steel sword as he defended his village and namesake with honor and justice. Sometimes, it was as he rode his horse along the marked rural pathways. Sometimes she spied him when he bathed in the river… _those_ were special nights indeed.

 

In the months that she’d begun to dream of love, the very same man always appeared: Broad shouldered with sleek, black hair, and wielded a sword and bow with such precision she knew not even her father held in his millennia of training. He was a samurai, born to defend those close and attack those far. She didn’t even know his name, and yet she couldn’t explain such a feeling of connection to him. Sariatu knew from the first time she laid her truthfully empty eyes upon him she could never tell her father, and her sisters were varying shades of gray. Whenever she spied upon him, she’d made certain her father could never see what she allowed to happen in her dreams.

 

To her father and her sisters, love meant weakness. The only trouble was, Sariatu didn’t exactly understand the definition of love. She’d never felt it for anyone, as far and long as she’d known in centuries of existence. But this samurai was a secret of hers she knew she had to hide. Whatever she felt for him, and whatever she knew of love, there was a correlation between the two that couldn’t be easily denied.

 

Rearing down towards a dip in the purple treetops, the light of a campfire burned bright beneath the blanket of stars. She saw his figure sitting on a falling log, and a strange device perched upon his lap. Wafting into the dark shadows, she maneuvered carefully through the twigs and branches of the trees, unable to make a sound in her dreams to alert the man of her desire that she was watching him from afar. As the goddess leaned in closer, the robes of her kimono pouring over the branch she settled upon, the device perched upon the soldiers knee uttered a single note.

 

Instantly, a red maple leaf swirled from the canopy to the space before the samurai, and appeared to become sentient. It was almost like a form of magic. Realization flashed across her pale face in the light of the small fire. She had learned of a such a force before-- a shamisen that wielded magic to manipulate the nature her family was supposed to control. Her father had long dismissed such a powerful weapon as a myth until it was used against him however many centuries ago.

 

It was the one thing capable of removing their immortality… what made them above the pitiful humans beneath their domain. Sariatu suddenly felt a sense of rage boiling beneath her ghostly white skin as her mortal form began to shed itself like the curling shell of a cocoon. The almond brown of her eyes receded into hollow darkness. She had to destroy that thing before it destroyed her.

 

“I know you’re up there.” The samurai lamented and set his shamisen to the side.

 

Instantly the rage melted away at his voice. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt her heart tremble at his tone. Her grip faltered, her eyes flashing back and before she realized what was happening her back collided with the grassy forest floor. She brought a hand to her head, massaging the feeling back into her cheek from where it had dented into a pinecone.

 

He stood up, leaving his weapon at the logs end. This made no sense. How was he so lively now after months of only fleeting glances? How had she faltered in a world she controlled?

 

The man sauntered up to her but in her mortal form, she kept her head bowed in modesty. “You seem to be a long way from home.” He noticed as he looked her over. She could feel his eyes, beautiful as they must’ve been, burning into her slumped form as she heated with embarrassment beneath her yukata but said nothing. All the while she stumbled over the question of how.

 

“You should know better than to talk to me, _mortal_.” She hissed, knowing whatever this man had pretended to be in her dreams, he was now her reason to fight. Too long she’d failed to do her part in protecting her family, and the influence of a weapon powerful enough to shake the pantheon was enough to shove her far off the edge. Her eyes swelled under an inky sea.

 

“I should?” The samurai questioned incredulously. “As I recall you seem familiar. I know I’ve seen you before, but where?” He continued on with almost a pathetic demeanor of false guessing.

 

She bit back a growl as the darkness that was her power began to involuntarily weep from her fingertips. She was losing patience with this man. Once she ended him, her dreams would be all she could tell her family about. Her father would be pleased.

 

Sariatu turned her head up to glare, and in that moment she felt more mortal and weak as any dream she’d ever had in centuries.

 

The samurai had his gauntlet covered hand extended down towards her, and she gazed upon his face for the first time in her visions of him. And in all her longing she never could’ve asked for more. His brown eyes were wide with a playful yet remarkably cheesy grin. His skin glowed orange in the small, somewhat distant fire,  and the unshaven whiskers of developing facial hair were groomed and guided weakly into a goatee. His silky black hair was tightened in a bun and beneath his armor he looked bigger that the tree she’d fallen from. Her jaw popped open like it was spring loaded. She had never felt so helpless accepting his help to stand as he took to brushing the dirt and grass stains from her yukata. Somewhere between the hammering of her heart, she heard him ask her name.

 

“Sariatu.” She whispered quietly, as though the world left her catatonic and gave her a breath of air to choke on.

 

“A beautiful name.” The soldier bowed. “I’m Hanzo.”

 

Suddenly she prayed to the gods that her father couldn’t somehow see her blush. What was happening? Was this what love felt like? Was this such a bad thing? Then her eyes fell to the charismatic man’s shamisen.

 

She would obtain that deadly weapon at all costs. She had to or there was no telling what damage this roach could inflict upon her family. Her eyes suddenly shut and involuntarily sucked in a breath. The wind blew a powerful gust, scattering the maroon maple leaves in dancing patterns through the clearing. The man’s words quickly faded to indistinguishable babble. The color of the world through her eyelids seemed to fade rapidly. Someone was waking her up. She forced her brown eyes open and gave the man of her desires a cold glare as her dreams faded from existence, and reality began the fast-paced yet arduous march towards waking up in her world.

 

 _Hanzo…_ The girl mused quietly. She would remember that name.

 

* * *

 

“Sister, wake up!” She heard the urgent voice of one of her sisters as she lazily opened her eyes and turned up to face her. Miyuki was peering down at her as she stirred on the tatami floor. Arching her back, Sariatu barely had time to yawn before Miyuki grabbed hold of her hand and gave her a tug.

 

“Miyuki, wait!” She pulled back only for her sister to let go and send her tumbling back onto the plush mat that she slept on. “What’s going on,” She looked around the empty room, moonlight pouring in from outside signifying that it was nighttime. “It’s the middle of the night.”

 

“You know father’s most active during the night.” She frowned at her younger sister who instantly recoiled.

 

“Something’s happened.” Sariatu concluded emptily and shut her eyes before her mind could illustrate any of her worst nightmares.

 

Miyuki nodded. “Get dressed.” She grabbed her not her sisters yukata, but her robes which were tucked neatly in the underfloor compartment she had opened before waking her. The black robes and straw hat that they saved only for entering the world of mortals to assert their authority.

 

“We’re going down there?” She caught the hat and then the bundle of black as her sister tossed them over.

 

Miykui shook her head and bit her lip. In the light of the moon there was a distant reflection to her seemingly empty black eyes, showing what she still had yet to truly give up despite the fact that she had no eyes, and by their fathers logic no humanity, through her immortality she held concern. It could’ve been for their father, for their powers… Sariatu couldn’t fathom what went on in her older sisters head. None of them ever wore their masks or robes at home, where there was nothing to be hidden.

 

“I don’t know.” She answered. “But Harumi has warned me to be prepared for anything.” The middle sister tossed part of her robe behind her shoulder and revealed the hilt of her sword, as if indicating Sariatu would require it. “Meet us in the throne room and walk quickly. You know father doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

* * *

 

The youngest sister flew through the halls of her family’s castle, her black robes carrying a wind that shunned the light of the many paper lanterns, wisps of thin smoke curling behind her like cresting waves. The throne room was within view and the large doors were held open to the outside, letting the warm summer breeze infiltrate the sacred place where their all powerful father sat and flexed his endless strength even in his ripening old age.

 

Harumi and Miyuki sat on their knees in a straight line before her father, bowed in respect and waiting for their youngest to fulfill the empty pillow on the left side of the room. It was painfully embarrassing to be late to their meetings on any normal mission such as slaughtering the warlords which disrespected him… but it was a whole other level of shame for doing so when it was obvious the matter was so urgent.

 

She reached the throne room and the two layers of doors separating the throne room from the garden slammed shut in her wind. The lanterns above burst with light as Sariatu lowered herself down on her pillow next to her sisters, ignoring the glare Harumi gave her for her tardiness. Her eldest sister had always been wrapped around his finger.

 

The youngest goddess kept her head lowered and bowed deeply. “I am deeply sorry father.” She offered no excuses as The Moon King raised an eyebrow from his elaborate throne, but it soon fell.

 

“You are forgiven, daughter.” He answered.

 

Harumi straightened up and her other sisters did the same. “Father, you awoke us stating there was important business you needed to share with us.”

 

“I did.” He cast a nod at his three children.

 

Miyuki continued. “What do you require of us?”

 

“Is there danger to be found?” Sariatu narrowed her empty black eyes at the man who’d raised her and an empire all on his own. Silence eclipsed the room as each sister made her own conclusion. Her father stood, black mist pooling beneath his feet. “There is.” He admitted, folding his arms behind his back. “And I’m afraid I require much of your help.”

 

“Who is the fool?” Harumi growled menacingly and Sariatu could hear her hand close around the hilt of her sword. “Whoever it is, we shall make them pay.”

 

The Moon King held up a hand, silencing his eldest daughter. “My dear, you mustn’t underestimate all foes. You know I never would’ve called you here if I could defeat this mortal myself.”

 

“But father,” Miyuki interjected. “They are mortal. What strength could they possibly wield against us?”

 

He frowned. “A magic which our kind have foretold for millennia before myself. The shamisen which can bend the laws I have created for the world. With such manipulation of the order of life comes our immortality. If that instrument were to be used against us, we would lose everything we’ve built together.”

 

Miyuki let her surprise be known while inky black mist poured from the darkness of Harumi’s cape. “But you said it didn’t exist.” Miyuki exclaimed darkly.

 

“I know.” The Moon King answered, tone somewhat annoyed. “I never thought such a power existed.”

 

“But they are mortal.” Miyuki smiled wickedly. “And if they are mortal, they can be crushed like a beetle.”

 

Harumi shared her smile. “Easily so. With the three of us, there’s no way this mortal, shamisen or no, can defeat the daughters of the Moon King.”

 

The king seemed to disapprove at their cockiness, but the look left him within a pause as Sariatu asked the final question on everyone’s mind. “Father, what is the name of the mortal who wields the shamisen?”

 

Silence prevailed in the throne room for what felt like an eternity. Her father had made a full rotation of the room before turning back to his daughters and giving them the final piece of the puzzle with which to act.

  
“Hanzo.” He seethed with restrained rage. “The samurai Hanzo.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the much requested fight scene! I originally intended for this to be a oneshot but figured there was more to expand on. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and will return for the last one!

Barely a breath passed through Sariatu’s paper white lips before a burst of cold wind rushed through the throne room. Less than a pulse of time had come and gone between The Moon Kings utterance of the offender's name before his emotions struggled to contain themselves. This happened often enough that none of the sisters moved or showed signs of life in the face of such chilling and earth shattering outbursts. They had long ago become numb to it… at least, when it was so sudden. When a mortal dared interfere with his perfect world, his rage could be felt for days, released in dark, ugly flares.

 

In the Spirit World, nothing was hidden between the little family, including subtle and sometimes unreadable emotions or desires. Such a life had been led for generations of gods and goddesses that lived before The Moon King and with the exception of the few sisterly secrets and the things Sariatu refused to share even in the security of her dreams. This law was followed more for sentiments sake than anything else, her father wanted her to believe; but the youngest Moon Daughter had always been one to peer past the veil of supposed truth. His desire for an honest dialogue stemmed, as she and her sisters had expected, purely as a way of keeping them loyal and in line. Dishonesty and rebellion were mortal feelings and passions-- traits a goddess was to be far from copying.

 

And so, the harsh winds of the pantheon roared around his robes, inky black fog scattering wildly before dissipating. The three of them sat complacently, knowing that no combination of words or pleas could stop their father's rage when he burst.

 

This lasted for only a few seconds until a final gust slammed the doors shut again, returning the room to near silence and near harmony. Realizing his outburst, the all powerful god’s eyes swelled back to life from beneath the tides of inhuman darkness and he took a deep breath. The lanterns flickered chaotically with his heartbeat and resting pulse. Through the side of her eye, Sariatu could see the tiniest grin on Harumi’s waifish features, her soulless black eyes glimmering with a distant and seemingly forgotten sense of joy. It seemed as though she recalled    

the effects of her father's anger on the world below, and her smile only magnified her stance towards her position. It was almost as if she could see the suffering and misery brought upon the mortals in any form of natural disaster and could see their lives being snuffed out in bursts akin to the many failing lanterns in the throne room.

 

But the emotion disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced from unfathomable depths, and the lanterns, in tune with her father's obsessive desire for harmony, relit themselves.

 

“I apologize, my children.” He said wryly, glaring at the ground. Silence prevailed as the three of them bowed, silently acknowledging his mistake and forgiving him, as they always eventually did.

 

“We understand father.” Harumi answered quietly, speaking for the three of them as she so often did despite the annoyance it bored to the younger sisters. “You have not expressed such anger in decades-- such an outburst is warranted.”

 

“Let us not waste time on condolences.” Miyuki cut her off before more could be said. “This is an urgent matter, sister.”

 

Sariatu nodded in agreement. “We have a name to follow. I presume you know his location?” She pressed, her tone echoing the missions importance beautifully. At this, her father seemed unimpressed; almost contemptuous.

 

For a brief moment, her stomach churned. It was almost as if he was taunting her to answer the question she’d just asked. It was almost as if he somehow knew. The heavens stilled for what felt like an eternity in the family’s silence.

 

But this emotion faded into the cascading ripples of wrinkled skin, leaving only the dying coals with limpid disappointment. “The samurai came to possess the shamisen at a young age. It seems that whatever form of magic he wields disturbed the balance tonight. The magic is still weak enough, so I can pinpoint his location.” The Moon King silenced them both with an ice cold glare and a voice that sliced like ribbons of glass. “I saw him in a vision hours earlier. He is in our family temple.” He concluded gravely.

 

Miyuki released a low growl and Harumi quivered in rage. Sariatu kept her composure, but felt her heart lurch with a beat of life. The samurai was at a temple. Not just any temple. _Their_ temple. The one so sacred only select mortals dared to beg for mercy and a sunrise the next morning whilst the rest of them left offerings of varying degrees of usefulness on designated days of celebration. The one that had been constructed by the Moon King himself to serve as a symbol of his all-powerful reign over the nights sky.

 

There was no level of dishonor that Hanzo could sink to that would warrant him anything less than a brutal death now.

 

“How do you know he has not gone?” Sariatu questioned with trembling rage.

 

Her father’s eyes shut for a moment, a pulse of energy surging through the throne room as the lanterns again danced with the winds. “I sense the disturbance now. The longer he remains, the more irreparable his damage shall become.”

 

“Then his blood will run the ground red.” Harumi’s tone shook with rage, head crumbling to her knees in disbelief as if the energy was being sucked from her veins. “We will not fail you, father.”

 

“I know.” The Moon King settled his stance in the center of the trio, hands folded neatly behind his back. A small, knowing grin twinged at the corner of his lips, watching his eldest squirm with desperation to end the threat to their happiness. “You are dismissed.”

 

With necessary order, they rose in uniform, each sliding their masks over their features to hide the vicious glares beneath porcelain white skin and ruby lipped smiles, black, soulless eyes peering from behind what they chose to hide from the mortals who feared the unknown that accompanied unblinking pools of black and a frozen, falsely benign smile. They had been crafted to hold no difference, as to show equal importance and balance of power within the Moon Sisters. Floating only inches above the ground, they glided swiftly down the hall towards the garden.

 

Only when their father was well out of physical earshot did the girls resume their conversation. “Are there any objections to me snuffing his life out myself?” Miyuki’s bone thin fingers curled around her holster, sword gripped in thin, white knuckled fury.

 

Harumi scowled through the mask. “You’re surely not that stupid.”

 

“You dare call me stupid?” Miyuki responded through gritted teeth. “You were the one to release that damned prince two decades ago because you were--” A cold, metallic claw roped around her throat, and through the smiling mask Sariatu could only stare at the broken frown and the gasp of air that were easily seen behind the still, motionless smiles painted on the masks.

 

She bit her lip behind the mask, unable to move in the face of her eldest sister’s rage that could easily be dealt towards her with one wrong slip of the tongue. Miyuki almost never learned her lesson with each attempt to bring her egotistic matriarchal sister back down from the heavens to earth, so to speak. This had been the next escapade of what seemed like a thousand where the middle sister provoked the eldest and tensions boiled over into an action-packed battle that would usually end with no injuries, as their immortality refused to grant such things.

 

The chain attached to the claw shivered with Harumi’s anger. Through the choking gasps of her sister she seemed to realize there was no point to such a petty argument and the claw released, recoiling itself back into the neatly strung bundle around her belt where the end clicked into the handle of a scythe. Miyuki stared blankly into the stones of the garden as she fell to her knees, hand drifting to her neck.

 

“Sariatu.” Harumi snapped her head towards her youngest sibling who immediately straightened herself. “You will be the first to go. We will follow your efforts to catch the mortal off guard… once he is down, I expect you to make the final blow.”

 

A moment of strangled silence passed between the three goddesses as Miyuki recovered, righting her stance before joining her sisters inches above the ground. Sariatu wished for a moment that they had not worn their masks-- even she was powerless to read her sister’s intentions beyond what her cold, black eyes and rigid, stoney frown could portray. It was easy enough to see her expression behind the mask, but what lay beyond the second mask was forever a mystery to her.

 

But the one, simple word that would have granted her the answer she so craved died in her throat. Then a wave of realization passed over her as soft and slowly as the foamed-soaked tide. The question quickly returned in a different form.

 

Why was she asking this? Why was she questioning any of her older sister’s decisions? She had only led three missions in the past, all of them succeeding to various degrees. She rarely dealt the final blow to the mortal-- such a thing Harumi prided herself in doing so well -- or was given more power than her age permitted. She had even been wanting to lead their next mission for months, now.

 

_Now._

 

She nodded, bowing lightly in her elder sister’s direction. “I will not disappoint you, my sisters.”

 

“Your place on this mission is no more important or serious than the rest of us.” Harumi answered. “Remember sister, we are equals in this universe. And down on earth is and never will be an exception. You are still young, and this mortal wields a weapon stronger than any one of us alone. Father sent all of us on this mission because he knew it would take our combined powers to stop such a powerful force. I don’t expect either of you get carried away or assume your strengths do not have limits in the world of humans.”

 

Sariatu cast a nod in their direction. “I understand what is required of me, and I’m well aware of the dangers.” With this she stared towards the moon, her father’s gaze upon them forever and always, whether they liked it or not. “I will not let myself fail.”

 

A moment of silence passed over the three of them before Harumi broke it. “We have a mission to complete.” She answered coldly, chiding her youngest sibling for wasting precious time.

 

Sariatu had disappeared into the night’s sky before either of her sisters could continue their petty criticisms. She was an all powerful goddess. The guiding light of the moon as her witness, she would not be weak in such a critical moment… not now. She was no mere mortal. She was a Moon Daughter.

 

And no samurai could ever change her blackened heart. Even one as charming as Hanzo.

 

* * *

 

The Temple of Bones was silent as Sariatu slowed her descent towards the earth, the massive full moon blotting away the light of the millions of stars in the sky. The world beneath them was deep in the throes of autumn, a breathtaking sight on any mere day as the crystalline beams shimmered in the shadows of a burning burgundy forest. Stray leaves of various colors twirled in her soft connection with the ground, black mist pouring from her fingertips as her rage simmered in the cool November night.

 

The temple itself was far too quiet as to not arouse suspicion. It was a modest structure of wood and clay tile, the stone grey walls decorated with shrines dedicated to her ancestors who had long ago given up their immortality in favor of a new lifetime among the stars. Stoney eyes of statues gazed into the leaf littered clearing as she marched forth, sword clutched in one hand and scythe in the other. Long, paper-like locks of hair billowed in the shadow of her willowy figure, her footfalls not breaking the peaceful atmosphere as to not only keep herself discrete from the samurai but also to pay respect to her family’s temple. Her father would surely disown her if any of the damage caused was of her own fault.

 

Entering the open archway which led into the temple’s largest open space, the massive red doors to the enclosed garden swung open with a gentle breeze. Peering with squinted eyes, the trunks and branches of dormant cherry trees sprawled across the blue grass, sheltering it and the cobblestones which ran in a perfectly accurate line to the opposite side of the temple.

  


“I know you’re here.” She whispered, her voice echoing softly on the walls. The bunches of bloomed potted chrysanthemums shivered in the icy wind of her breath.

 

“I may be a decent samurai,” A familiar voice came from behind her. “But hiding has always been one of my weaker talents.”

 

Sariatu blanched, lips pressing into a thin line. Her feet circled on the paved stepping stones, throwing her weight into her scythe wielding arm. But the instant her eyes saw the man, she was struck still, pulse halting and breath choking in her throat. As another pause of silence went by she thanked the high heavens for the mask she wore which hid her weakness. There was no denying what she felt now.

 

 _No,_ She blinked, dampness swelling in her eyelids. _I won’t follow Harumi._

 

With that, the metallic claw sliced through the air, spiny phalanges reaching for the samurai’s face. Her eyes darkened to black, empty sockets-- blind to his humanity. The claw only dug into the grey stone wall of the interior, a cloud bursting forth from the wall and dusting the vibrantly colored flowers in laces of grey dust and sprinkles of pebbles. The goddess growled and spun back around, the claw catching her momentum and swinging with her movement. The clang of metal on metal echoed in the massive hall as the extension of Sariatu’s hand closed in a fist around his immaculately sharpened blade. Black mist began to pool around her like the expanding cloud of ink from a threatened squid.

 

The tiniest of confident grins surfaced on Hanzo’s face as he took his sword and threw his weight into the sterling silver blade, the connected chain catching the girl off guard as she was suddenly thrown from the ground and up into the air; the wave of links cresting and flicking her as easily as an ant. Her hand tore from the scythe and she was left to smash into the wall, convulsing from the sudden impact and lack of breath.

 

The chain rattled as it scarred the landscape of the garden, the paving stones cracking from the sudden impact. A link snapped somewhere, the tension too much, and the scythe impaled itself in the damp dirt, blade down. The claw itself shivered from its severed limb, froze, and fell to tiny insignificant pieces at the samurai's feet.

 

She watched as the samurai took the shamisen from where it rested snugly across his back, his other hand revealing a pick. Instantly adrenaline coursed through her veins and she rocketed forward, intent on stopping him by any means necessary. She was only centimeters from decapitating the instrument as its neck with her own sword before he struck a note.

 

Instantly, a powerful wave of energy pulsed from him and she was pushed back with a force that could rock the heavens, her boots dug into the soil having learned from her last failure. The sound of the weapon assaulted her ears and she let out an agonizing scream that could have awoken the deadest of souls. Fortunately for her, Hanzo was not immune to the banshee scream and was left to clutch his ears, and squeeze his eyes shut, immobilized where he stood. The shamisen fell to the ground, undamaged.

 

He glared daggers as he stepped over the instrument, leaving it where it lay, realizing such a weapon would be near useless in this fight… was perhaps was it to even the playing field? Either way, he was a fool to doing so. With gritted teeth he removed the sword from it’s scabbard and lunged for the goddess, his shadow illuminated in the moon's silver light from the open doors. She quickly blocked it with her own blade, inches from his face, she could see every shard of amber within his eyes. They held not so much rage as they did irritation, as though he had dealt with her kind before.

 

“What do you want,” He pushed his strength into holding the stalemate. Sariatu grinned wickedly.

 

“Your head in my father’s hands.”

 

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

 

She released a snarl, not moved by mere humor. “You have offended my father.” She stared with unblinking eyes. “Now you must die.”

 

With the sentence read, the young goddess released the tension between them and rolled under the warrior's legs, pulsing energy lifting her from the ground. Hanzo was no so easily fumbled by such a tactic and glanced to the moon dial, cracked in the center. A column offered a decent perch.  

 

He bounded across the temple floor for the columns capital. With expert precision, he arced his sword in the air and leapt across the gap. Sariatu, amazed at his stupidity and ingenuity, barely had to time to move from where she floated before the muscular man tackled her to the ground. The blade swung down only to be blocked once more. At a serious disadvantage, she wiggled beneath his weight.

 

“You’re new to this aren’t you?” The samurai grinned slyly.

 

Her still, open ruby lips being the only response he received, the ebony haired bounty hunter bucked her knees as she flipped the warrior over her and onto his back. She sprung to her feet and held her sword to his jugular, smiling even behind the mask. She had him poised and ready for the afterlife. Harumi and Miyuki would surely be impressed.

 

“Any last requests?” She hissed with a menacing grin.

 

A cunning smile curved up his stubbled cheeks and he delivered a swipe of his leg to her own, knocking her over with a choked scream. She only just managed to pull herself back to her feet before blocking his swing once more. The of connecting blades echoed in the hall as the two swung at each other and were blocked again and again. Finally, faltering on one of her attempts to make a permanent scar on that unfortunately smug face, Hanzo delivered a blow that knocked her into the ground as she spun, face planting into the cracked paving stone.

 

She heard the sound of cracking ceramic. She felt the razor-like shard shift and slice through the bridge of her nose, but no blood fell from her translucent skin. With a chilled bead of sweat she realized the samurai was about to deliver the final swing. Thinking fast, the goddess rolled to the side as the sword only grazed the ground. Throwing her own sword up to swing again, she only met his eyes once more.

 

Then there was a gust of wind that swirled through the quiet temple. She felt the twine around her head wince and slip from its once tightened and precarious position. Before she could release her sword and right her failure, the twine sagged to her neck, and the glossy ceramic broke free from its ties. One piece first over her left eyes, then the next. The pieces descended and shattered loudly on the floor, porcelain white shards scattering across the stone floor. She blinked, as if she’d been lost in a dark cave for weeks and someone had finally shone a torch on her.

 

Her mouth opened, looking at the handsome warrior again. His expression mirrored her own, albeit much more shock whilst she was lost in the universe of his widening eyes. Hanzo stared, a look of stark recognition compounding into a beautifully confused face. He squinted into her eyes, as if realizing something was there. Both of them were powerless in the face of a quickly growing emotion that neither Sariatu nor Hanzo had ever truly felt upon the heavens or the earth.

 

His mind raced. Something was definitely familiar about her, from her pulled back tresses of dripping ink to her pale, papery skin that shone like the gloss of her mask. He had seen those eyes before-- in solid obsidian and split almond. The only differences he could find were tied to an orange yukata and the twigs of pine and maple lodged in her hair. There was the scent of a fire, the song of crickets, those same small hands hidden not beneath gloves, but modestly long sleeves. The same girl he’d watched from his nightly dreams for months, who always tried to hide herself only to finally falter and disappear into nothingness this very night.

 

It was his humanity she saw as he lowered his sword. She was powerless to finish the job, weak at her knees as her sword clattered to the ground. He smiled that same, cheesy grin from beneath his wiry beard, eyes shining in her shadow. It was more powerful than anything she had ever seen or dreamt of, his compassion wasn’t an illusion of her mind.

 

He then uttered four simple words. “You are my quest.”

 

Those words changed everything. And that really was the least of it.

  
At least, that was what she wanted to tell herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Fan: You'll see... I'll include the answer in the next chapter!


End file.
